Impulse Control
by rosesinjanuary
Summary: Sometimes, it's best to just give in.  McGee/Abby.
1. McGee

No spoilers, set some undefined time in the future, just plain Abby/McGee happy-ending-ness. Second part from Abby's POV to follow (hopefully soon, so that I stop getting doing that glazed staring-off-into-space-thing at work...someone's going to notice soon)!

* * *

Lack of impulse control was not a problem anyone would suspect Timothy McGee of having.

But when it came to Abby Sciuto, it was a fairly major one.

It started when they were dating, and they had to maintain a very strict "no relationship stuff at work" policy. He would watch her sometimes, in the lab, and fight the urge to touch her, kiss her, drag her into the back room and talk her into sex on one of the stainless steel lab tables. He was head over heels for this impossibly strange girl who had dropped into his life and seemed inclined to stay, at least for a while, and at first every day was a severe exercise in impulse control.

It got easier – or he just got more used to it. It was worse when they broke up; or, more accurately, stopped dating, since there was nothing actually broken about them. But it did mean having look at her and desperately want to trace the curve of her lips with his thumb…and not be able to.

Not just not at work.

Not _ever._

It was all those ridiculous little things. Wanting to see her hair loose, or smell her skin. Wanting to trace the spider tattoo on her neck, or the infinity symbol on her arm. Wanting to touch her, just a moment longer than was absolutely necessary, or to hold her gaze just an extra second or two, or hug her for just another minute…

Sometimes it drove him crazy that it never seemed to bother her. Not a bit. She flipped some switch in her head that turned him from the guy she was sleeping with to just a friend, and that was it. She could even make little teasing remarks about it. Not to torture him – Abby wasn't that mean. Just…because.

And so he learned to steel himself against each moment of temptation. Every hug, every smile, every "I love you" ("like a puppy")…each chance he had to make a mistake, to cross the invisible line they'd drawn in the nonexistent sand, he learned to fight it, until it became second nature and he didn't even have to think about it anymore.

Most of the time.

#

They'd spent the evening in the park with the dog, and they detoured on the way back to the car for ice cream. Abby smiled at something he said – he didn't even remember what – and without thinking, he reached out and caught her chin, and wiped a smear of chocolate from the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

Abby turned her face into his hand, too smoothly for it to be anything but instinctive, and pressed a kiss to his palm.

And then they both froze, standing like statues in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at one another.

McGee thought about moving his hand, but he didn't actually _want _to. And Abby wasn't moving either…wait, now she was. Her hand crept slowly up and covered his, and for a moment he was afraid she was going to push him away. But she didn't, just left her hand on his, and kept looking at him.

They stood like that until he felt a cold, wet nose press into his free hand. Jethro had decided he was bored standing around, and was ready for his people to start moving.

For the first time in a long time, McGee let himself act on an impulse. He laced his fingers with Abby's and started walking again. After a moment, he risked a glance to the side. Abby walked along beside him, her hand in his, eating her ice cream cone, and he thought he saw the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

There was still a smudge of chocolate there, too.

#

She didn't just pull up in front of his building to drop him off with Jethro. She found a parking spot, and came with him up to his apartment. Once inside, he unhooked the dog's leash, dropped his keys on the counter with a loud clatter, and looked up to find Abby leaning against the wall across from him.

McGee waited.

"Do you ever…tell yourself not to do things you want to do?" she asked eventually. Her eyes never left his.

Right now, he was telling himself not to cross the two feet of space that separated them and kiss her until neither of them could form a coherent thought. "Yeah," he admitted.

Abby took a step towards him. "You ever want to just stop telling yourself no? Just do…whatever it is that you want to do?"

God, she was dangerous. "Such as?"

One more step, and she looped her arms around his waist. Not the standard Abby-hug she gave everyone routinely. This one brought her in close, so their bodies were almost-but-not-quite touching, and she slid her arms just under the hem of his t-shirt, so that her fingers brushed against his skin. "Like that," she told him softly, and leaned her forehead against his shoulder for a second. Lifting her eyes back to his face, she smiled. "What if we just did what we wanted?"

He gave in – a little – and closed his hands lightly around her arms. "What –" The words caught, and he cleared his throat. "What do you want?"

Her lips were a hairsbreadth from his. "I want you." She took a breath, let it out. "What do you want?"

Her voice trembled on the last word, and he wanted…he wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, and watch her smile, and peel off her clothes and run his fingers through her hair and taste her lips and find her ticklish spots and hear her laugh and feel her body against his and hold her for as long as she'd let him.

He wanted to pull her close and see if her skin smelled as good as he remembered, so he did. Wrapping his arms tight around her, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the faint smell of the chemicals she worked with, and gunpowder from ballistics tests, and some unidentifiable sweet smell that was just Abby.

In other words, perfection.

"I want you," he said finally, and her lips curved into a smile as they met his.

She tasted like chocolate ice cream and that same indescribable Abby-ness, and McGee decided that impulse control was highly overrated.


	2. Abby

Finally! Abby is always more difficult than McGee, for some reason.

Who's excited for the season premiere next week? :-D (Dear Powers That Be: More Abby and McGee, please. We need a little cuteness in our lives.)

* * *

Abby Sciuto was not known for her impulse control.

But when it came to Timothy McGee, she had it in _spades._

She could never quite put her finger on what it was about him that made him different. There had been geeks before; there had been shy, sweet guys with nice smiles and earnest eyes. It wasn't like she'd dated one particular type exclusively, and he was a complete departure. He was just another guy.

Except he wasn't.

Abby loved watching the play of expressions across his face when they talked, loved the way that when they worked together, they could practically read each other's minds. They could fight and always make up, they could irritate the hell out of one another but still not want to change anything about the other person. She loved how smart he was, and how nervous he got, and she loved watching him gradually forget to be nervous and just be smart.

…Not that she ever actually used the word 'love.' Not even to herself. She didn't love him. Well, not true; of course she loved him. He was McGee. She just didn't…_love _him. Not like that. She liked being with him a lot. He made her smile. He made bad things better and good things great. He also occasionally made her frustrated, crazy, annoyed, and every once in a while downright angry, but she was fairly sure she returned the favor, so it all evened out in the end.

Really, it shouldn't have made much of a difference when they stopped sleeping together. They didn't see each other all that much less. And they still got to work together, and sometimes have lunch together, and talk, and tease one another…it was completely the same.

Except it wasn't.

She had plenty of options when it came to dating. And sex. That wasn't what she missed. Or…it was what she missed, but she missed it with _him_. She missed the look of pleased surprise he always got when she kissed him. She missed distracting him by winding her arms around his neck and whispering in his ear. She missed the touch of his hands and the feel of him pressed up against her in her coffin or his bed and the taste of his skin.

She saw him every day, but she still missed him in so many ways.

She created a very fine line for herself, one she could tiptoe along, and occasionally inch a toe over, but no more. It was perfectly normal to occasionally – very occasionally – reference their past relationship. Or tease him in ways that were the purview of someone who'd spent a lot of…_personal_ time with him. It wasn't the same, but she could get a flicker of that 'something more' that she missed, and it was just enough for her. It drove her a little bit crazy when he stopped responding to her references and teasing – didn't he miss being with her at _all?_ – but…it was probably for the best.

Because it wasn't fair, she told herself. They didn't want the same things, and it wasn't fair to him to try and keep something going between the two of them when every time he got _that_ look, or made even the vaguest of sounds about 'discussing their relationship,' her fight or flight instincts kicked in. He deserved more than she could give him. And so she stuck to her line, and was relieved when he cut his hair again and she didn't have to keep stopping herself from brushing away that one funny strand that sometimes fell across his forehead when he'd been working late. They were friends. Really good friends, but that was all, and it was for the best.

It was logical, and she was a big fan of logic.

Most of the time.

#

Fine lines are very fragile, and theirs disintegrated with one simple touch.

"I want…" Abby laughed as McGee found a ticklish spot on her neck. "I want you to keep kissing me right there, for one thing."

It was like a game, where they only had to say what they wanted for it to happen . His own laugh vibrated against her skin. "That works out, since I want to keep kissing you right here."

"Mmmm…" She sighed happily. "What else do you want?"

He traced a finger down one of her braids, and tugged the elastic off. "I want those to come out…" he said, loosening her other pigtail as well "…and these –" he found the buckles on her spiked cuffs "– to come off."

Abby rolled her eyes. "You're always in such a hurry to get rid of those."

"Ever since you gashed me with one!"

"Once! And I barely scratched you!"

"There was _blood,_ Abs." He dumped her cuffs on the bedside table, next to the necklace she'd taken off to give him better access to her neck. "And I remember it happening at least twice."

She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling out the remains of her french braids, and grinned at him. "Maybe, but wouldn't you say it was worth it?"

Reflecting on the memory, McGee smiled. "Probably." He leaned in to kiss her again. "What else do _you_ want?"

Abby tugged at the hem of his tee shirt. "I want to see what's under here. It's been a while."

McGee raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said. "Got any new tattoos?"

"Maybe." She pulled her shirt off, and before he could react she was tugging his over his head.

"Hey," he protested. "Aren't you going to let me do anything?"

Tossing his shirt on the floor, she gave him a challenging smirk. "Make me."

She caught the barest glint of an evil look in his eye right before she found herself pinned to the bed, McGee's hands tight on her wrists and his face smiling down from above her. "Gotcha. Let's see you get out of this."

Frankly, she didn't actually _want _to get out of it. She wanted to enjoy it. But for form's sake, she had to remind him not to underestimate her. "You know I always win this game." She couldn't free her wrists, but she managed to raise herself up enough to brush her lips against his collarbone, and trailed kisses up along his neck. "See?" she murmured in his ear, as she felt him shudder against her, and his grip loosen. "Now, think how much more fun this would be if we both had our hands free…"

He groaned and released her wrists, sitting up and pulling her with him. Abby laughed. "I told you…I always win."

McGee's kiss was warm. "Yeah, but I _really_ don't mind losing this way."

She slid her hand up his chest, feeling his skin smooth under her fingers, hints of muscle definition that hadn't been there before. "Nice," she said between kisses. "You look good." Leaning back a bit, she studied him for a minute. "You grew up," she said at last.

A couple different expressions crossed his face, and he eventually settled on slightly pleased and a smidge embarrassed. "It happens," he told her. He tried to pull her close again, but she held back.

"Have I changed as much as you have?" she asked curiously. She wasn't just talking about looks.

It was his turn to study her, and he traced the line of her nose, the curve of her lips, along her jaw. "No," he decided finally. "A little bit, maybe, but really hardly at all." He wasn't just talking about looks either, and even though he was smiling, he sounded a little sad.

She didn't know why, but it made her a little sad too. So she tucked her head into the curve of his neck and curled against him. "It's okay," she told him. "I…" _Love _teetered on her tongue, but she pulled it back; it was a dangerous word just then. "…liked you then, and I like you now. I always will."

It was a funny angle, but she could still see him lean slightly forward and press his lips to her shoulder. His eyes were closed, and something in his expression tugged at her heart. She wanted…she wasn't sure what. Him. That look on his face. The warm fuzzy feeling she got when his arms tightened around her.

She wanted to make him smile. "Sooooo…you said something about wanting to see my tattoos?"

It worked. McGee grinned, and his eyes sparked with interest. "Anytime."

Abby scooted far enough away to turn her back to him. "Only two new ones, I think," she said, and brushed her hair out of the way so that he could see the daisy between her shoulder blades. "You've seen that one."

His hand ran over her back, brushing lightly across the ink. "Yeah. I like it." He had good hands – strong, with long, careful fingers. "This one have a story, or you just thought it was pretty?"

He always wanted to know the story, which she appreciated. "New niece," she told him. "Remember I told you my brother and his wife had another baby awhile ago? Daisy. Well, Marguerite, actually, but they call her Daisy sometimes for short, and daisy is the flower for Ap-" The touch of his lips against her skin sent a pleasurable shiver through her, and she made a small happy sound deep in her throat. "-ril, when she was born," she finished, slightly breathless. "She's my goddaughter."

"I like it," he repeated, his breath warm on her back. "You said there were two?"

She hesitated only slightly, as she remembered something about that particular tattoo, and then rolled over to lie on her back. "See if you can find it," she said teasingly, and watched as he examined her body intently. Her heart rate jumped every time he touched a tattoo he remembered, apparently crossing them off some mental list.

Finally, he found it, half hidden under the waistband of her black jeans. And once he did, he hesitated slightly too before he ran his thumb over the intricate Celtic knot design just to the right of her hip bone. "You went with that one?"

He'd walked into her lab a few years ago while she was studying a few different designs. "I'm thinking of getting another tattoo," she'd informed him. "Can't decide which one." McGee had studied the options over her shoulder for a minute, and then pointed to one in the center.

"I like that one," he'd offered.

Abby had given a noncommittal "hmmm…" and they'd moved on to whatever piece of evidence he'd come down to discuss. She doubted he'd thought about it since.

Until now, when he was looking down at the design he'd pointed out, inked onto her skin.

He looked up at her, and she shrugged. "I decided I liked that one best," she said.

The corner of his mouth snuck upward in a very slight smile. Normally, she'd probably have been annoyed with the hint of smugness in that smile, but it looked so damn cute on him that she decided she didn't much care. "Can I see the rest of it?" he asked, tugging at her belt loop.

Turnabout was fair play. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours…"

In a tangle of arms and legs and hands and pulling at belts and buttons and zippers, they managed to get one another's pants off, laughing and touching and kissing like hormone-crazed teenagers. Finally mostly naked, they broke apart to catch their breath. Abby caught McGee looking at her, his expression suddenly serious, and found herself blushing – which she _never_ did. "McGee, you're staring."

"I forgot," he said simply.

"Forgot what?" she asked. "You never forget anything, Timothy. You're like an elephant. Memory-wise, at least."

McGee reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I forgot how beautiful you are like this. When it's just us."

Her heart skipped and stuttered and her breathing caught. Abby moved closer, wrapping herself around him, feeling his arms around her.

"I want…" she began, but the words stuck in her throat as she looked in his eyes and suddenly, it wasn't a game any more. So instead, she kissed him long and deep.

Anyway, he knew what she wanted, because they wanted the same thing.

#

"Don't move," she ordered him, her voice still a bit unsteady.

"Abby, I'm going to squash you," he protested, and managed to prop some of his weight on his elbows before she wound her arms and legs around him, forbidding further movement.

"Don't care," she said with a smile. He _was_ squashing her a bit, but she could still breathe – kind of – and she was remembering how much she loved the feel of him on top of her. McGee gave in and bent his head to kiss her, lazy and slow like they had all the time in the world. Tonight, at least, they did.

Eventually, she loosened her grip and he moved to the other side of the bed. That lasted about a minute before he reached out and draped his arm around her waist. Abby grinned as she slid over to him. "_Now_ what do you want?"

"More of you," he said absently, almost like he was talking to himself. He rested his chin on top of her head .

She poked his hip. "Unlikely at this exact moment, unless you've developed some sort of superhuman recovery time since we last did this. But I want more of you really soon, so we can probably work something out."

His smile came through in his voice. "Good to know, although that wasn't exactly what I meant." He buried his face in her hair, and his next words were muffled and indistinct. "I just want…you. And me. Like this, forever."

It was quiet enough and difficult enough to understand that she could have pretended like she hadn't heard him and it would have been fine. It was what she was going to do, and she snuggled against him and prepared to fight that desire to run that always hit when he said something like that, because whatever happened, she wasn't going to ruin this moment.

But it never came. Instead, she just felt...peaceful. Loved. And completely, wonderfully, and indescribably happy.

McGee hadn't changed as much as she'd thought – he still loved her. She, on the other hand…she'd changed much more than he'd thought. It wasn't scary anymore, that he loved her. It wasn't even scary that she loved him. _Really_ loved him.

Maybe what they wanted wasn't so different after all. They wanted each other. They wanted to be together. Maybe they could just figure everything else out as they went along.

They were pretty smart.

Abby tilted her head and kissed his shoulder, tasting the salty-sweetness of his skin. "Hey, can you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Sure," he said. "What is it?"

She propped herself up so they were face to face. "Love me?" The lump in her throat surprised her. "Do you think you can do that?"

There was a long moment where they just looked at one another. "Yeah," McGee said at last. "I can probably do that." He hesitated, and then asked, "Do you think you can…return the favor?"

Abby pretended to think for a minute, and then leaned in to plant a kiss on his nose.

"Yeah. I can probably do that."

#

The next day at work, they fought the urge to smile at one another every time their eyes met. They fought the desire to touch one another more often than usual. They fought the wish that they could lock everyone else out of the lab and hole up in there all day. And when they got home, they rewarded each other for their restraint.

Sometimes, impulse control was more than worth it.

FIN


End file.
